


Of First Dates, Close friends and Things Not Going Totally to Plan

by BlackandBlueMagpie



Series: Wonderful One plus One [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackandBlueMagpie/pseuds/BlackandBlueMagpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan communicates in the only way he knows how.<br/>Courfeyrac decides to take a risk.<br/>And Enjolras has wwonderful ways of making this that little bit harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of First Dates, Close friends and Things Not Going Totally to Plan

Courfeyrac, as always, volunteers to clean the tables; balancing the tray half on the table and half on his hips as he stacks plates, saucers and cups. It's then a piece of paper flutters down to his feet.  
He assumes, at first, that it's a napkin but as he bends to pick it up - nearly scrunching it between his fingers - he realises it's a poem.  
It's immaculately set in the centre of the page in calligraphy and spares the space for a few doodles around the edges.  
It's entitled 'coffee shop'.  
The title isn't imaginative, to serve as it happens as an obvious statement to it's prospective reader, but as Courf find out later when he gets round to reading it the poem itself is enchanting.  
He's read it twice already, pinned to the fridge by an Eiffel Tower magnet (That was a joke from Bahorel), as he made dinner. He reads it once more as he gets ready and then carefully folds it into his pocket as he heads out to the meeting with Marius. 

He isn't sure what it is about the meeting, whether Enjolras is being especially boring, or Marius has mentioned Cosette just one too many times, or that Joly's facial expression tells that he's become the final person in the group to realise exactly what the looks Grantaire was giving Enjolras meant, but the poem played on his mind.  
The way the y's and g's and f's curled, the dashed dots of the i's, the sweeping t's in multicoloured script. He'd memories the doodles, the lines, every inch of paper.  
He realises he must be day dreaming when Combeferre nudges him, passing a bottle and asking what's wrong.  
It took two more hours and a walk home for him to actually tell his friend.  
Combeferre mulls it over, leaning against the wall as Courf tries to find his keys - cursing Marius all the while for his late night rendezvous with Cosette.  
"Well it depends." Combeferre began after an age "Is he just going to be like those girls you screw over and leave?"  
"I don't know Ferre. I just want... To talk to him and get to know him and watch him work." There's silence and Courf finally manages to tug out the offending set of keys by the keyring.  
"Invite him to the meeting."  
"What?"  
"Invite him to tomorrows meeting."  
"I don't even know the guy, we've never spoken. And Enjolras would kill me." And I don't want to spend out first date listening to political commentary in silence.  
"Then invite him to the lovely bistro we call home, assess him and join us later." A pause "It's not like you to ask for relationship advice Courf."  
"It's not like me to want to be in a relationship." Courf mutters with a 'good night' as he closes the door.

~~~ 

When Jehan arrives the next afternoon the streets are buzzing. The chairs outside the cafe are nearly full and he struggles to find a place of lock up his bike - eventually finding a rail a street or so away, drawing his notebooks out of the wicker basket for the journey on foot.  
He fears that his usual armchair will be taken hen he sees the queue at the counter but it sits, remaining defiantly empty all the while as he orders.  
There is a slight wave of disappointment that the usual barista is missing - instead being served by a blonde girl who comments on his hair, it's today braided through with flowers.  
He can hardly believe his luck as he approaches the table, then realises why it's empty as he notices a small hand written 'reserved' sign. He glances around, looking for another table as he catches the blonde girls eye - she's gesturing at him wildly, grinning and miming to sit down. He does so, frowning all the while.  
He's laying out his things when he sees the note in the same hand as the reserved sign.  
 _To the poet_  
It appears to have been written slowly - trying to make the writing neater than usual as Jehan himself does when writing out titles. Or in fact yesterday's work, and he can't help but wonder if it's linked to that. He had tried to be obvious, without being too explicit.  
He unfolds the paper, pulling his floral jean-ed knees up against his chest.  
 _Do you fancy getting to know each other?_  
 _Meet me at the Cafe Musain at 6.30._  
 _Yours, Courfeyrac_

He spends the next two hours debating the letter, sipping his coffee slowly and methodically to 'aid' his thinking. The barista he now assumed to be Courfeyrac never appears and this only edges him further toward the meeting.  
By the time 6.30 arrives Jehan is both nervous and excited and has also found himself cycling toward the cafe.  
As he approaches the cafe he gives a small start, because the man leant against the all outside with his sandy brown hair, wire framed glasses and tweed blazer is most defiantly not the man he assumed to be Courfeyrac.  
He approaches anyway, not wishing to be rude and the man looks up from his book.  
"You must be the poet, Courfeyrac told me to look out for blond hair, ribbons and floral."  
A small wave of relief washes through him, and he's uncomfortably sure it shows on his face.  
"Where is Courfeyrac?"  
"Enjolras had him get some notes or other, he was seething but it's tough to get Enjolras on side. He should be along in a minute, but until then you have me - I'm Combeferre."  
"Jehan, with a h." Jehan nods to him with a small smile.  
"Jean with a h." Combeferre repeated, nodding "Well you've certainly got our Courf excited."  
"I wouldn't say that..."  
"I would." The statement was abrupt and Jehan tints slightly pink with delight, beginning to fiddle with the end of his plait. "He hardly paid attention to the meeting last night, and for Courf to get caught not paying attention it must be something major. Then he showed me the poem, you have a good writing style. I especially like the use of similes." Jehan begins turning the colour of his ribbon and Combeferre smiles. "He's a nice guy, I think you'll like him."

~~~

Courf is cursing Enjolras under his breath as he hurries up the stairs. He knew he was going to miss half the meeting for what Enjolras saw as no good reason but there were plenty of other who could have run the errand, organised the notes and done the admin who didn't have to worry about turning up to a date red faced and messy haired.

He's near quarter of an hour late when he pauses at the entrance to the cafe to catch his breath.  
Through the window he can see the poet, floral jeans and all, talking animatedly about, he assumes, Combeferre's choice of book. The words don't reach him but the girlish giggle that accompanies a stunning smile creep through.  
It's then he decides to break up the revelry, stepping outside with a spill of light and over dinner conversation. The poet glances around, and his face lights up more, if that had been possible, and Courf himself pauses, hand still on the door, with a goofy smile of his own.  
"Well here's the man himself, maybe I'll see you later." Combeferre pats Jehan's shoulder and strides into the cafe, pausing only to briefly murmur 'If he turns out to be another on of you throw aways...' in Courf's ear.  
The threat doesn't need to be said, Courf can feel the daggers and shudders involuntarily before turning to the poet.  
"I'm Courfeyrac."  
"I know." The smile is there again "I'm Jehan, with a h." It suits him far, far too well and Courf hardly manages a 'shall we' as he holds the door open.

The two settle with their drinks, Jehan surprisingly opting for some sort of fruit mixer while Courf sips a glass of wine.  
The topic vary, starting with the cafe, moving into uni which invariably leads to poetry and Courf discovers he could listen to Jehan talk about Byron or Cummings or Keats for years. He offers up the poem that still in his pocket and Jehan tells him, with a small blush, that it's his and he should keep it. He does so gladly, though he'll never admit that within hours it's stuck on his bedside table. Talk evidently turns to friends shortly thereafter.  
"Combeferre said... Enjolras, I think, had you running errands. What was that about?"  
"Someone-" Bossuet "lost the photocopies of the notes. Seeing as I'm missing the meeting Enjolras had me go run after them. He doesn't really understand the concept of dates..."  
"This is a date?" The question makes him pause and Jehan smiles and quickly follows it with a much less awkward question. "Explain the group to me."  
"You've probably seen our posters around..."  
"You're that group?"  
"Mhmm. There's eight of us, nine if you include Marius. Enjolras is our glorious leader, Combeferre our philosophical secretary and I bring... The... Party..." He frowns and Jehan's laughing the laugh he heard outside.  
"How'd you all meet?"  
"Well, Enjolras has these grand plans, and he knows Combeferre from the library or school or something. I was the safe bet mutual acquaintance to help fill out the group, who introduced Bossuet our resident bad luck, who of course brought along Joly because they have some sort of... something. Bossuet introduced Marius who in turn became my roommate - but he's out most nights." Jehan raises an eyebrow and Courf goes pink around the ears. "Uh... We don't quite know where Bahorel came from but everyone loves him anyway and he brought Feuilly so... Then there's Grantaire who I think... Left notes in the library and Combeferre invited him to change his views, not that Enjolras ever seems happy about it."  
"Will he like me?"  
"Well are you a cynic, a nihilist or a drunk?" Jehan shakes his head, seemingly confused "Then he'll love you. I mean he loves everyone else and I fail to see how anyone could... dislike you."  
Okay that's definitely the wine talking and he's practically the same colour as it when Jehan nudges his leg under the table.  
"You'll have to introduce me someday."  
The thought was interjected by a shout and the slamming of a door. The whole restaurant turns. Courf groans, glancing over the back of his chair.  
"Sorry, do you mind..?" He gestures to the dark haired man who's stumbled out. Grantaire's clutching his reddish knitted hat to his chest, his dark curls messy from where he's been wearing it. His jumper and jeans look like they've been slept in. When Courf reaches him all he can smell is brandy.  
"Come on, sit down." He leads Grantaire across to their table before he can protest and plonks him down, hoping he won't say something inappropriate to Jehan in the meanwhile.  
"Oh so that's why you're not in the meeting." Grataire's doing a pretty good impression of feeling okay but Courf doesn't buy it. "Sorry I interrupted." He grins at Jehan.  
"Jehan this is Grantaire." The introduction is protocol "What happened?"  
"Nothing." Grantaire's got a hip flask out and is sipping out of it. Courf raises an eyebrow and Grataire offers "The usual."  
"What'd he say?" There's some sort of pain in Grataire's eyes as he looks up but he keeps his face neutral.  
"That I'm a worthless drunk who can't do anything."  
"I'll talk to him later." Grataire is glancing over his shoulder, watching the door as if hoping someone will appear. When no one does he settles for chewing on his lip. "He was in a bad mood earlier, it isn't you."  
"It's always me." The eyes that come to rest on him are icy blue and speak with the conviction and truth of someone who's been hurt too many times. The metal reaches his lips again and Grantaire sips more of what ever the hell it is in the flask. Courf dangles his key infront of his nose.  
"Go back to my place. There's a warm shower and a change of clothes and I'll be along later. And if you're not there God help you because Marius is with Cosette again and I'd like somewhere warm to sleep." Grataire seems to take the keys before he's even processed them "And don't get drunk."  
"Can't, ain't got the money."  
"That explains a lot." Grataire rubs his eys and gets up.  
"Got any smokes? Feuilly was out and I'm gasping..." It's a pointless question, Courf doesn't smoke, but it's a question that Grantaire's fond of asking.  
"Oh!" Jehan sparks back into life and digs in his bag "Here."  
The box he hands out is pastel coloured and Courf smiles through his surprise at how much they suit him. Grantaire seems equally bemused as he selects and turquoise sobraine between his finger tips and turns it over.  
"Why thank you." And with that he's gone, leaving Courf staring at Jehan for a little longer than is normal. Jehan goes pink as he glances up.  
"I didn't know you smoked." Is all Courf can think to say.  
"Every artist has to have his vice."


End file.
